


In a chaotic life, love shines through

by Excuseyouclarke



Series: Chaos in love, Chaos in family [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meddling mothers, Smut, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excuseyouclarke/pseuds/Excuseyouclarke
Summary: Roan's got a plan, get married in peace, spend a month somewhere hot and sunny and preferably never speak to his mother again.Only, he and Clarke have to plan that wedding, and their meddling mothers have their own ideas about how the wedding day should go.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Roan
Series: Chaos in love, Chaos in family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990633
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	In a chaotic life, love shines through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsHouseWife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHouseWife/gifts).



**_12 months before the wedding._ **

Clarke drums her nails on the kitchen island, jaw tense as she looks over the email for what seems like the tenth time. Roan’s at a loss, he’s not a man of many words at the best of times – outside of the courtroom, anyway. He’s got less of a clue what to say now than most of the time.

“I don’t understand” she sighs, scrolling on the iPad again. “They said it was a sure thing, we’d put down a deposit, how do they double book?”

They had tried to book the Botanical Gardens for their wedding as soon as they picked a date, it should have been plenty of time to secure it, they’d put down more than the asking deposit too, so it doesn’t make sense that they’d now get an email profusely apologising that they had double booked, and their deposit would be refunded shortly.

“This is our mothers, I know it” she finally clicks off the email and fixes him with a glare, as if he could have foreseen it. “Is there nothing we can do? I had my heart set on there”

“I know baby” he wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind and she leans back into him, resting her head on his chest. “I _could_ do something, but honestly, is it worth it? Why don’t we just find somewhere else?”

She deflates against him; he kisses her head and lets her be disappointed. He’d marry her in a New York City back alley filled with dumpsters. He doesn’t care about the where, or the when. He wants her, not the big day or the fancy frills that goes with it, he couldn’t care less about that. He didn’t ask her to marry him for a wedding day – that’s just a drop in the ocean compared to the rest of their lives together.

“Somewhere else” she finally agrees. “I mean, it doesn’t matter that much, right? It’s just a place. Want to take a bet on which one of our mothers bought it out?”

“Mine” he snorts without putting any real thought into it. “Remember ‘ _you’re not getting married in a greenhouse’_?”

Clarke huffs and he tightens his arms around her, perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy as they thought. After _that_ disastrous engagement dinner, they really did think that the interest in their wedding would dwindle. Sure, they might have stuck their nose in here and there, but booking their wedding venue over them so they couldn’t have it? That was a new low.

“So what now?” she pouts, petulant and adorable.

“Now, we find a new location and not tell anybody until it’s fully secured. I’ll write out a long scary contract that means they can't disclose to anybody who’s getting married on that weekend if it makes you feel better.”

She turns in his arms and grins, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. “That would make me feel better” she hums, even on her tallest tiptoes she’s not tall enough to reach him. He leans down and presses his lips to hers, silently telling her it’ll be alright.

They narrow their search down to two places, a vineyard, and an inn – it’s just a case of getting quotes and checking availability. Easy as that.

At least – it should have been as easy as that. Clarke gets a text from her mother, not so much as inviting them to lunch the next day – more telling them they were going. Then – the text off his mother comes. Turns out it’s a family affair, and after all, they’re all family now.

Roan feels sick thinking about it. 

“Can you make that?” He asks, hoping she’ll say no so he doesn’t have to go either, but she gives him an exasperated look and nods sadly.

“I’m on a night shift, but I’m guessing she already knew that. Can you make it?”

Well, he’s not leaving her to go alone, so he supposes he has to. “I’ll take it as my lunch break” he assures her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her head.

*

Their mothers are _unbelievably_ smug when they tell him their wedding venue fell through. Also – surprisingly sympathetic. It was all fake, of course they were planning something. Roan gets this sudden bad feeling that they might be planning something together.

“So what’s your plan B?” Abby asks with an overly cheerful smile. On the table, Clarke grips his hand tightly.

“We’ve got a couple of things in the works” Clarke tells them tersely, “but we’re being careful not to jinx things just yet though – you know, after what happened last time”

“Of course,” Abby nods with faux sympathy. “Well, since your first plan didn’t work out, perhaps it’s time to think of another route.”

“Mother” Clarke sighs “I’ve already told you, we’ve got –”

She’s cut off by a stack of brochures being slammed onto the table in front of them. They both stare at them in dismay, but that’s nothing compared to the brochures his mother drops in front of them.

“What in god's name are those?” He demands, staring at the offending items like they spat in his food. Clarke picks the first couple up, familiar names stand out – _Mexico, Aruba, Mauritius, The Maldives._

Now he sees what’s going on.

“We already said we’re not getting married abroad” he reminds them, but they already knew that. Clarkes got a death grip on his hand.

“Just look through them” His mother says brightly, he almost didn’t realise it was her speaking, he’s never heard her sound so happy. This was going to be disastrous.

“We’ll look, but we’re not booking it” Clarke tells them pointedly, they don’t seem fazed though. In the back of his and, he wonders if they’ve already booked something in each destination – he wouldn’t put it past them.

“That’s all we ask” Abby smiles, going back to her salad. “Clarke darling, you’re not drinking?”

“Oh for gods sake” she mutters under her breath, he’s a bit ashamed of smiling at that. “No, I’m working tonight”

“Oh, I thought maybe –”

“Still not pregnant” Clarke cuts her off, her hand tightens around his again, she’s surprisingly strong for such a dainty thing. Abby just shrugs, his mother’s watching them critically.

He thinks – no, he knows he preferred it when neither of them gave a shit about what they did. Although lunch could have gone much worse, his suspicions raise further. Their mothers were almost civil to each other, Roan wonders if they’ve been communicating behind their backs.

Then he stops wondering, because he knows they have, how else would their wedding venue have got cancelled, were they supposed to believe that they both just happened to bring wedding brochures to lunch, which seemed to have no agenda other than talking about their cancelled venue.

He’s more than pleased when he gets a text telling him to go back to the office, and Clarke looks relieved too.

“Well, as much fun as this has been, the law waits for nobody” He tells them with a shrug outside of the restaurant. Neither women look disappointed at their lunch date being cut short, which can only mean they’re planning many, many more of these.

Clarke slips her free arm around his waist when they’ve gone and rests her head on his chest before he hails for a cab to take him back to work. He feels guilty, leaving her alone knowing her phone will probably be blowing up with questions from both their mothers about where they’re having the wedding.

But then, he doesn’t have to deal with it while he’s at work, so – silver linings.

“Switch your phone off and take a nap” He suggests with a smirk. “They can’t harass you at work”

“They can try” she mutters, giving him one last squeeze before she steps away. “I’ll just shove my phone in my locker until tomorrow morning.”

“That’s my girl” he smirks, kissing her forehead. He knows that by the time he’s finished work, she’ll be starting her shift, and she won’t be home when he leaves in the morning. This is the part he hates about both of their jobs, they can go days without seeing each other through no fault of their own.

It makes their time together better though, so he tries not to grumble or grouse too much.

It’s three days later that they decide on the Vineyard. They have a bottle of wine to celebrate that they’ve got this wedding planning thing down to an art.

**_9 months before the wedding_ **

****

As it turned out though – they did not have it down to an art. Clarke downloaded a list of things they needed to plan for the wedding – it was a damn long list. Split into dates and urgency and honestly, he didn’t understand half the stuff on there.

“We’re way too busy to do all of this” Clarke groans, burying her head in her hands. “We work at least forty hours a week, when am I supposed to find time to pick a wedding theme? I thought the theme was wedding”

Roan snorts, despite knowing she’s deadly serious. “Why don’t we just pay someone to organise it for us?” He suggests, she lifts her head to give him a quizzical look. “You know, like a wedding planner. We’ve got the venue sorted, and I’ve already picked out my wife, those are the important things.”

She lets out a surprised laugh, and he’s happy with that.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I mean, everybody does it – and we don’t need that kind of stress, someone gets paid to stress about weddings, they may as well stress about ours”

So maybe _they_ haven’t got wedding planning down to an art, but they can pay somebody who has.

Luckily, somebody Clarke works with gave a glowing recommendation, and that was good enough for them. They arranged an appointment for the next time they were off work together and that was that.

*

In hindsight, answering the phone to his mother was a bad idea.

“How did you get this number?” He demands in lieu of a greeting.

“Don’t be so dramatic” his mother scorns, a tone he knows well. His jaw immediately tenses, and he gets a tension headache only his mother can bring on. “How’s the wedding planning going?”

 _Here we go,_ he thinks. “Great, we’ve decided to pay somebody to do it for us.”

“Oh, that’s probably for the best. I can’t imagine either of you have much artistic taste anyway.”

“Clarke actually had a couple of paintings in a Gallery back in College, and all the artwork in our apartment is her own – not that you’ve ever seen our apartment.”

“Do you want me to come to your apartment?” His mother deadpans.

“God no” he scoffs “Please, don’t. That’s not the point – the point is we’re both too busy to plan a wedding, it can be somebody else’s problem.”

“Wise decision, who did you choose?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, a notification for a meeting pings on his laptop. “Somebody Clarkes colleague recommended. We’re meeting her on Tuesday.”

“When on Tuesday?”

His secretary is at the door to his office now, trying to mouth that his next clients here. “one o’clock or something, look I need to go, I have a client waiting.”

“Try not to mess their life anymore then” with that, the phone clicks off and Roans grateful that charming conversation is over.

The following Tuesday rolls around, and Roan can actually admit that he’s _excited_ to meet with the wedding planner. Not to plan the wedding, but for somebody else to do it for him.

Gina seems to know what she’s talking about, which is helpful for a start, and she seems nice enough from introductions. She comes with glowing recommendations so he’s happy, and Clarke seems happy with her so that’s enough for him.

It’s going well when the doorbell to the apartment chimes. Clarke gives him a questioning look, but he just shrugs – he wasn’t expecting anybody, and Clarke didn’t say she was either. She gets up to answer it, and Roan not being a man of many words, decides not to try and make small talk.

There’s a heated conversation going on at the door, Roan’s debating whether or not to go and see what’s happening when Clarke storms back, a dark haired woman armed with a MacBook and a hefty binder in tow.

“Your mother sent us a wedding planner” She tells him pointedly – crap. He’d forgotten about that conversation, and in all honesty, he hadn’t expected his mother to do this. “Now she won’t leave”

“I’ve been paid for the afternoon, you may as well use me while I’m here” she chirps, giving Roan a once over before stepping forward and thrusts her hand in his face “I’m Ontari, Nia Winters hired me for the wedding planning”

“When Nia Winters gets married you can plan her wedding” Clarke mutters as Roan shakes her hand - she’s got a scarily tight grip. “You’re not going to leave until you hear about the wedding, are you?”

“Nope” Ontari grins, Roan has that tension headache that usually comes from talking to his mother.

“Sit down then” he mutters, Ontari sits next to Gina with a self-satisfied grin. She makes an obnoxious show of opening her laptop and spreading her binder over Gina’s plans on the coffee table.

Clarke just rolls her eyes. “Anyway,” she starts to Gina, “As we were saying, we’ve just secured –”

“Wait” Ontari huffs “I need to ask some questions first, how did you meet?”

They both huff out a laugh, it wasn’t exactly a meet cute, but hell it did make for a good story. “Well, it’s funny –” Clarkes cut off by the doorbell chiming again, he wonders if she’s getting a tension headache, too. “What now?” She mutters, storming back towards the door.

Ontari’s looking at him like she wants to eat him alive.

“This” Clarke announces sharply, gesturing to a severe looking blonde woman, “Is Byrne – just Byrne. _My_ mother sent her.”

“Fantastic” he sticks his hand out to shake Byrne’s hand, it must be a requirement to have a freakishly strong handshake to be a wedding planner.

“Byrne” the woman confirms with a nod towards his, she doesn’t smile, or frown even, she just stares at him like she’s judging every life decision he’s ever made.

“I heard. Please, take a seat with the other two wedding planners we have.”

He’s sure Clarkes eye twitches as she watches Byrne spread her binder on the coffee table. He wraps an around her shoulder and kisses her temple, praying this would be over soon. He doubts it, but he lives in hope.

Ontari’s throwing a glare at Byrne, who is fully aware she’s being glared at, she’s just doing a very good job of ignoring it. Gina looks uncomfortable and way out of her depth – they’re probably going to have to pay her over the odds, he doubts this will be the last time their mothers try to meddle in their plans.

“So as I was saying” Ontari finally turns to look back at them, eyes narrowing as she takes in Roans arm around Clarkes shoulder. “How did you two meet?”

“I’ve been trying to say this for the last ten minutes” Clarke mutters under her breath, then louder “Roan rear-ended my car then asked me out for drinks, the rest as they say, is history” she turns to beam at him, that probably wasn’t the story any of their wedding planners were anticipating. There’s a frantic clicking of keyboards none the less though, he can’t imagine why that’s important information.

“When was that?” Byrne questions, like it’s vital to the planning of their wedding – which she won’t be doing.

“Just over two years ago” Clarke answers more tactfully than he can, which he’s grateful for.

“Exact date?”

Clarke shares an exasperated look with him, “I’ll have to check the insurance forms”

That piques Ontari’s interest. “You don’t know the date?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “It was February 18th, that was a joke - we didn’t go through the insurance, he just paid for it in drinks and sex.”

The joke has – once again – gone over Ontari’s and Byrnes head, Gina at least smiles. There’s more tapping on their keyboards, the sound of one is annoying enough, but three going simultaneously is mind numbing.

“So do you have a date in mind?” Ontari questions before anybody can get another question in.

“July 17th” Clarke replies, squeezing Roans free hand.

Byrne nods “Mexico is beautiful that time of year. I actually have connections in Riviera Maya, I could organise a beautiful sunset wedding.”

“Mexico?” Ontari curls her lips in disdain, “I thought you were getting married in The Maldives”

“I thought you were getting married in New York State?” Gina asks, confused.

“We are” Roan assures Gina, “We booked Wolffer Estate Vineyard last week actually, and they’re in a pretty binding contract, so if anybody were to try and book over us, it wouldn’t end well.” He says pointedly, looking between Ontari and Byrne, who start typing furiously again. At least that threat should get back to their mothers.

“Have you thought about a theme?” Ontari asks, “I’ve got some sample themes from previous weddings I’ve coordinated, which by the way have all been a great success.”

This is where they’re stumped – also the reason they hired Gina and whoever the other two are in the first place. Neither of them know the first thing about weddings, colour schemes or themes or flowers or any of the other hundred things they’re supposed to be planning.

“I kind of thought the theme was wedding” Clarke shrugs, Ontari and Byrne looks like she suggested serving fermented urine instead of Champagne.

“No” Ontari finally says in disgust, “The theme coordinates _everything,_ what kind of cake you have, the decorations, the bridal parties’ dresses –”

“Oh, there’s no bridal party, or groomsmen actually” Clarke interrupts, Ontari looks like she’s about to pop a blood vessel.

“You’re not having bridesmaids, or groomsmen?” Ontari demands, eyes wide in shock and disgust.

“That’s what she said,” Roan growls, Clarke squeezes his hand in warning.

“Look, we don’t really do close friends, we’ve got friends that we’re inviting but we decided we don’t want a bridal party.” Clarke sighs, neither of them particularly cared about having bridesmaids, and it seemed like an easy way to minimise things they needed to do.

Ontari looked like that had personally offended her, but he didn’t give a shit about what anybody other than his Fiancée thought. 

“So, theme?” Byrne demands, Roan imagines she’s very good at organising military operations.

“Is wedding still not a theme?” Clarke deadpans, Roan snorts too loudly to try and hide it. Ontari and Byrne glare at them, Gina looks amused by the situation, which is a good sign.

“Maybe we’ll leave the theme for now” Gina suggests, next to him, Clarke relaxes. He doesn’t understand why they need to do all of this, it’s ridiculous. Is it not enough that they love each and want to spend the rest of their lives together? They could easily just get a courthouse wedding, over and done with in ten minutes, and whatever ridiculous money they were spending on the wedding could go on the honeymoon – that was the part he was definitely looking forward to.

“Why don’t put it in a simpler form – what kind of wedding are you looking for? Simple, rustic, pretty?” Gina continues, now this they’d discussed – well, the venue had made suggestions.

“We had sort of spoken about a rustic and pastel colour palette, we think it would stop things going over the top.” Clarke confirms, the sound of typing is really starting to get on his nerves now.

“We can do that” Gina smiles, “I actually planned a wedding not too long ago at a location similar to yours, they had the same kind of palette.”

“I’m sure we can all do a rustic wedding” Ontari rolls her eyes condescendingly “but you’re not going to stand out with a wedding like that, especially not in the Hamptons. You’ve got some very important people on your guest list, I’m sure they’d like something more than [hessian] and fairy lights”

Guest list – that was news to Roan since they hadn’t discussed that yet.

“I wasn’t aware we had a guest list” Clarke blinks in surprise, the death grip on his hand his back.

Ontari and Byrne simultaneously pass them a piece of paper each, with a long list of names, most he doesn’t recognise, and the ones he does he definitely isn’t inviting to his wedding. This is their mother’s political ploy – to use their wedding as a networking event.

“We’ll be having full control over the guest list” Clarke tells them in no uncertain terms, “no matter who our mothers try to put on or take off we have full veto power, is that understood?”

Ontari and Byrne both nod, eyes wide and a little frightened, she’d make a damn good lawyer.

“Can I get that list back?” Ontari asks.

“No.”

“Okay” Roan claps with hands, bringing back the attention. He’s had enough now, enough of their mothers controlling their lives and wedding, enough of people that he didn't know or particularly like in his apartment. “I think this meeting’s over.”

“But we haven’t gone through the wedding details yet” Ontari states, blinking in surprise. At this moment, he couldn’t care less about the wedding details.

“That’s too bad” he mutters, standing and gesturing for them to clean up their crap from his coffee table. “But quite frankly I’ve had enough.”

They scramble to clear up their binders and leaflets.

“We’ll call you” Clarke assures Gina before Roan closes the door behind them. His well contained anger creeping up. Clarke wraps her arms around his waist from behind and rests her head on his back.

“I’ll talk to my mother about the army general she sent to organise our wedding.” She murmurs, it finally dissipates the anger, making him laugh instead. Somehow, she always does that. 

“I don’t even think whoever the hell my mother sent was even a wedding planner, I think she was just here to snoop and judge.”

She hums and tightens her arms around him, it makes him feel marginally better. On the one hand, he can’t believe his mother would do that, send someone to try and organise their wedding after telling her they’d already hired someone – on the other hand, he can believe it.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, “I only mentioned that we were hiring Gina in passing, I didn’t think she’d actually do this.”

“It’s alright, I didn’t think anything of the conversation I had with my mother. I think we can both agree to stop telling them any sort of information.”

“Agreed.” He takes her left hand and kisses her ring finger, soon enough, there will be another ring there, and another name added to hers. No matter what stress they’re put through, they’ll always make it out stronger.

**_8 months before the wedding_ **

****

“These aren’t the invitations we ordered.” Clarke announces with a frown from the sofa. “This is nothing like what we ordered.”

Roan groans and leaves his place at the kitchen island to see what she was talking about. Picking out invitations had seemed like the single most pointless thing to do at the time, everyone he wanted there was a text message away.

Actually, the only person he really wanted there was sat right next to him, but he was told it couldn’t just be them two, so he supposes other people can come if they want to.

She is right though, as pointless as the invitation thing was, they’d actually spent a good amount of time – and money – picking out the invitations, he knows what they look like. Whatever Clarke has in her hands isn’t it.

“Oh shit” he sighs, “there must have been a mix up at the printing place. I’ll give them a call now.”

As it turns out, there wasn’t a mix up at all, but rather a miscommunication between them. They had ordered one thing, and Abby had ordered something completely different in its place. Cancelling their wedding venue was one thing, and sending a wedding planner to replace theirs was another, but to change their wedding invites was crossing a line. Where did it end? Certainly not here.

“Your mother seems to have had a hand in this,” he announces gingerly as he hangs up the phone, he knows this isn’t going to go down well.

“You’re joking” Clarke deadpans, as if he would ever tell a joke. “I’m going to kill her.”

“I didn’t hear that” Roan mutters as she takes out her phone. He winces when the shouting starts, he’d like to know what defence there is for changing the invitations like that, but knowing Abby she probably doesn’t need one.

It’s a lot of pacing and angry exchanges that Roan tries his hardest not to listen to.

“She said our invitations are ugly that’s why she changed them.” Clarke groans as she collapses on the sofa. The invitations Abby replaced them with wasn’t any better.

“We’ll change them back” he promises, “did she say anything else?”

“We’re going dress shopping this week.” She mutters with a petulant pout. He can’t think of anything more dull sounding than dress shopping, and he knows Clarke isn’t exactly the biggest fan of shopping either. But this was supposed to be the part she was looking forward to, trying on all the dresses and shoes, she shouldn’t sound so down about it.

“If she changes your dress order, I’ll sue her” he promises with a kiss to her hair. It finally makes her smile, that’s what he was aiming for.

Clarke isn’t nearly as excited as she should be. It makes him sad that what should be the happiest times are turning out so stressful, this isn’t how he imagined the months leading up to the wedding would be.

He blames their mothers entirely; he misses the times they would occasionally make them dress up for some kind of event every few months then appear to drop off the face of the earth. Those were the good old days. Now they’re suddenly interested in every move they make, it’s completely ridiculous – once the weddings over they’ll go back to their old ways.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Roan asks with a quirk of his brow, Clarke laughs and shakes her head.

“A dress.” She deadpans cheekily. He nudges her foot with his as they sit eating breakfast.

“I thought you’d have for the more traditional toga.”

“You’re ridiculous” she tells him fondly. “I don’t know, a white dress? I’ve got a couple of ideas in mind, not that I’m going to tell _you._ ”

At least she’s got some enthusiasm for it. He has to admit, this is one of the things he’s looking forward to – seeing her all dressed up. More importantly, peeling the pretty dress off her at the end of the night.

Her phone buzzes and sighs dejectedly. “That’s my mother, eager to get going.”

“Good luck” he mutters when she kisses his cheek and grabs her purse. “If they’ve got any of the wedding night lingerie there feel free to bring it home to test it out.”

“Bye” is the only response he gets, but he can hear the smirk in her voice.

He tries to check in with her around lunchtime, but doesn’t get a response. He doesn’t think too much into it, even though she’s not much into shopping, she’s at least got to be excited about buying a wedding dress.

He’s excited about what goes under the wedding dress.

He makes sure not to stay late at work, he’s cautiously optimistic when he gets home and Clarkes not here yet – maybe she was having a good time dress shopping after all. He sets up his laptop and finishes his work while he waits for her to come home.

He almost jumps when he hears the key in the lock.

“Hey” he tries, closing the laptop, “good day?”

He doesn’t get a response past a glare, so he’s going to take it as a hard no. She’s got an armful of groceries and starts unpacking them in the kitchen silently.

“That bad?” he questions, Clarke rolls her eyes and carries on unpacking the groceries. He grabs at her waist as she stalks past him, pulling her in close. “Hey, talk to me. What happened? _I_ don’t usually get the silent treatment.”

She sighs and drops her head to his shoulder, nuzzling there for a second. He rubs her back soothingly, letting her hold onto him for a little while longer.

“I found the perfect dress, off the rack, my size, it didn’t need any alterations and my mother – oh my god. She found every single little thing wrong with it she could. It was too tight, the neckline was too low, it’s not appropriate to wear spaghetti straps, I should lose weight if I want to wear satin. Then she starts bringing up all these dieticians and eating plans to lose weight before the wedding and just – she’s exhausting.”

“Hey,” he frowns, holding her by the shoulders so she’s looking at him. “You don’t need to lose weight, not for the wedding or anything else going on. You’re perfect the way you are. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t love every bit of you.”

She blinks teary eyed, and he can see just how exhausted she is. “Really?”

“Of course. Buy whatever dress you want, as long as you like it. Screw what everyone else thinks. I know you’ll be amazing whatever you decide on.”

She smiles and cups his cheek. “Thank you. I brought a shit load of junk food to spite her.”

“That’s my girl” he grins, kissing her forehead.

**_7 months before the wedding_ **

****

He’s more than happy to sit back from the wedding planning and let Clarke deal with Gina. From the conversations he’s glimpsed, she doesn’t really care either – much to Gina’s dismay.

“I’ve had to block both your mother’s numbers” Gina informs them one afternoon while looking at photographers, which are apparently an essential part of a wedding, since if you don’t have photos there’s no proof it happened.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Clarke mutters, looking through one of the many brochures spread across the coffee table. Roan laughs but Gina just looks exasperated.

“I’m serious,” she tells them with wide eyes.

“Oh, we believe you” Roan assures her “welcome to our lives.”

“I’ve been doing this job for over ten years, never once have I dealt with both mothers trying to change the details as much as they have. Nia phoned me at 2am telling me that the venue didn’t suit her colour scheme.”

Roan tired hard to contain his laughter, he really does. Clarke on the other hand, makes no such effort. She openly laughs out loud at that, Roan can’t help but join in. Gina just looks exhausted.

“Okay” Gina sighs, “Have you decided on a photographer yet?”

“One that takes photos” Roan mutters, Clarke kicks him subtly. “I’ll let my fiancée deal with this one, she’s the artistic one.”

Clarke smiles at that, still looking between the brochures. “This one” Clarke says definitely, passing Gina one of the brochures. “He’s got some really good pictures there, and a good eye for lighting.”

Gina looks more than relieved. “Fantastic, I’ll see if he’s available.”

“If he’s not tell him we’ll pay more than the other couple he’s booked in for.” Roan tells her, she laughs, but Roans being serious.

When Gina’s gone with a promise to let them know when the photographer gets back to her, Clarke slumps against the kitchen island. Neither of them anticipated this being so difficult, and though their list was going down, Gina seemed to find a way to add ten more things to it when they’ve ticked off one.

“I think we need to compensate Gina for our mothers harassing her.” She murmurs as Roan starts taking the ingredients out the refrigerator for dinner.

“I’ll sort it” he assures her. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married abroad without anybody else there?”

“I could do with a vacation” she hums with a smile, he knows she thinks he’s joking, but he’s getting more and more serious about just eloping and being done with the whole thing. Unless she explicitly says that she wants that, he won’t make any plans just yet.

**_6 months before the wedding_ **

****

Works killing him more than usual, he’s taken on a big case with Echo, which means working late and leaving Clarke to do the bulk of the wedding planning when she’s not working. He hates it. Although they’re plenty used to not seeing each other as much as they’d like, but the little time they do get together is spent talking about the damn wedding.

So, he feels guilty for spending more time in the office, and he misses Clarke, but the wedding talk was numbing his brain. He honestly couldn’t care less about colour schemes or flowers. He doesn’t really think Clarke does, either but she’s been roped into it by their mothers. Poor Gina’s getting frustrated with both of their lack of ability to make a decision. Considering their career choices, it should be their forte.

A knock at his office door pulls him out of his thoughts. Echo drops a pile of paperwork on his desk unceremoniously. It was going to be a long night.

He feels worse when he gets home and Clarkes asleep on the couch, he made a vow not to sleep at work anymore so he could at least spend a few hours with her, but it looks like tonight was a failure. He feels more than guilty, especially leaving the wedding planning to her, and their mothers who were no doubt trying to change every little thing.

“Hey” he whispers, brushing her hair from her face. She blinks awake in sleepy confusion, sitting up slowly. She’s still in her scrubs and her hairs wild, he wonders how long she’s been home for her to fall asleep on the couch.

“What time is it?” she murmurs, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Just after midnight, come on, let’s go to bed.”

He takes her hand and helps her up, she’s unsteady on her feet as she always is when she’s tired. She leans against him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pretends it’s just to steady her, but really, he just wants her close. It’s something they haven’t had much of recently – closeness. Selfishly, he misses the time before they got engaged, when their biggest decision was what to have for dinner that night, or where to take a vacation.

Now he’s avoiding her because he doesn’t want to make decisions. He promises himself it will change, the weddings not far away now, soon enough the planning will be done, and they’ll be able to finally live in peace. He hopes, anyway.

He tugs her scrubs over her head and ducks down to press a kiss to her lips, he’s missed her more than he cares to admit. She sighs and winds her arms around his neck pulling herself closer. Her hands trail down to unbutton his shirt, letting it slip off his shoulders and down to the floor.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to hers “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“It’s okay” she sighs “I get it, you’ve got a big case coming up.”

“I’ll try harder to be here” he promises, placing a kiss on her head and pulling away.

“Don’t forget we’re meeting with the florist tomorrow, and our mothers have seemed to have invited themselves.”

He groans internally, flower shopping with his mother sounds like his own personal branded hell, but he did promise to try and be there more, so try he will.

*

Try as he might, his day didn’t work out as planned. New evidence was brought forward on their case, which meant he was pulled into emergency meetings all day and pouring over case notes. His original meeting went on forever, and when he finally looks at his phone, his stomach drops when he sees the multiple missed calls from Clarke and his mother, and a string of angry texts.

He grimaces as he reads through them, and makes a promise to make it up to Clarke when he gets home.

He’s only really sorry that he made Clarke go through it alone, he’s not sorry he’s missed spending time with his mother. He makes sure to try and beat her home, though – the rest of his work can wait until tomorrow. He buys her favourite wine and her favourite chocolate, hoping to score brownie points.

He winces when the apartment door slams shut, he’s already getting her wine out the refrigerator. She throws him a glare as she throws her purse on the sofa.

“That bad?” He asks, though he already knows the answer. It couldn’t be anything but bad.

“It was awful,” she groans, taking the wine glass from him. “every decision I made about the flowers they overruled, I don’t even know what we’ve ended up with. I had to fight to keep my bouquet how I wanted it, but I’m not convinced they didn’t change while my back was turned.”

Roan sighs and drags a hand over his face, he knew this would happen, the second their venue got cancelled he knew these women were going to cause him nothing but a headache. “Leave it a week, then we’ll go together without them and change it back to what we want, alright?”

She nods in relief and rests her head on his chest. He winds his arms around her and wonders if just eloping would be easier than this mess. It probably would, but he’s not sure either of their mothers would forgive them – not that he’s bothered about that, but Clarke might be. Might.

“I’ve got a stress headache. I don’t get stress headaches from work but one afternoon with both our mothers and it feels like there’s a jackhammer in my brain.”

He kisses her hair then grasps her chin gently to make her look up at him. “We’ll sort it” he promises her, then leans down to press his lips against hers. Clarke puts her wine glass back on the counter and winds her arms around his neck, he grips the back of her thighs and lifts her onto the counter, lips not leaving hers. She whines into his mouth when he presses against her, hard and impatient – but this isn’t about him, he can wait. “Bedroom” he gasps into her mouth, she nods desperately and wraps her legs around his waist.

He carries her to the bedroom in a daze, only truly aware of the gasps and moans Clarkes making when he bites her lip or teeth graze her neck. He sits her on the bed and pulls down the zipper of her dress, pulling it down hastily and unclipping her bra. She makes quick work of the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his arms and lands on the floor. Her fingers trace softly over his biceps, leaving trails of electricity where she touches. 

“Lay back” he whispers “cover your eyes” ever obedient, she does as she’s told and folds her arms over her eyes. It’s his favourite sight, her lying naked on the bed, waiting patiently for him but never knowing what to expect. He leaves her for a moment, waiting in anticipation until she presses her thighs together.

“You’re supposed to be making me feel better” she whines, “Not teasing me.”

She loves it, though. As much as she’ll whine about it, it gets her hot more than she’ll admit to him. He knows that well; he’s always known how to keep her sweet. He drops to his knees in front of her lifts her leg up over his shoulder, pressing kisses from her knee and up the inside of her thigh until his mouth hovers over her cunt. Her back arches in anticipation, but she should know by now that it’s not going to be that easy. Pressing a kiss to her clit, he drops her leg and carries on, teeth grazing over her stomach and ribs.

He pauses and hovers over, just long enough to make her squirm. She whines and arches her back to him, begging to be touched. With a stroke of his thumb over a hardened nipple, he takes it in his mouth and sucks until she moans, his hand reaching to squeeze her other breast roughly.

“Roan,” she gasps, “Please.”

He flicks his tongue over her nipple, pulling another gasp from her. “Please what?”

“I need you” she moans breathy and whining and desperate. He loves her like this, impatient and pushy – lay back waiting for him to take her.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me, be good and tell me.”

“Your mouth” she gasps, and Roans powerless but to do as she asks, so he falls to his knees in front of her and lifts her legs over his shoulders to get a better angle, worshipping her like she deserves. His tongue presses against her clit, Clarke moans and bucks her hips against him. With a growl, he pins her hips to the bed, sucking and licking her and lapping up every inch that he can. He’d happily spend the rest of his days here, with her thighs quivering in ecstasy and her crying out his name over and over.

He knows her too well; knows every time she’s getting close to the edge and pulls back until she begs him to carry on. He kisses the soft skin inside her thigh while she begs him to carry on. It’s worth it when she comes with his tongue inside her and his thumb rubbing her clit.

He can’t hold out any longer, he’s painfully hard and she’s soaking for him, ready to take him. He pushes a finger slowly into her, then another. She’s tight around him, even after all the times they’ve been together she’s still perfect for him - feels like she was made for him. He pushes a third finger in, preparing her for what’s to come.

Her pussy throbs for him, quivers around his fingers. She’s so tight for him, he still has this fear that he’s too big for her, he’s going to split her open if he doesn’t get her nice and wet first. She’s always so good for him, always ready and eager – always responsive to him. Pulling his fingers out, he pushes them into her mouth and tells her to suck. She does with a smirk, pressing her tongue between his fingers. 

“Ready?” he murmurs, hovering over her. She’s still covering her eyes like he told her, always so good for him. She’s practically shaking in anticipation, legs wrapped around waist and heels digging into his back. She nods, and slowly, he presses into her, letting her adjust. He knows her gasps and moans all too well now, she stretches deliciously around him, pausing when it gets too much.

She moans rolls her hips into him, the sensations almost too much for him, but this is for her, not him – and he knows exactly what she likes.

He thrusts harder into her and she lets out a strangled moan. He sets a relentless pace, urged on by the moans and gasps falling from Clarkes lips. Her breasts bounce perfectly with each thrust, he has to grit his teeth to stop himself from going over the edge there and then.

Snaking a hand between them he rubs her sweet spot until she clenches around him once more, arching her back and crying out.

“That’s it” he whispers, “always so good for me.” He waits for her to come down from her orgasm before flipping her over on the bed. She draws her knees up and leans on her elbows, pussy on show and begging to be filled again.

He’s not slow and gentle this time around, too impatient for that when he’s this close. He slams his hips into her, knowing he’ll get one more orgasm out of her before he’s through. She whines and squirms under him, rocking to meet every thrust she takes him so well.

“I’m close” he warns through gritted teeth, he doesn’t want to finish yet, not without her. “Touch yourself, come on baby once more for me.”

She takes her weight onto one arm and rubs herself with her free hand, he can already feel her tightening around him, the last ones always the best, takes over her completely and throbs around him so intensely.

He finishes with her, filling her with a groan as she moans under him. He cleans her while she lays back, completely sated and delirious.

“Better?” he murmurs, kissing the smooth skin on the inside of her thigh. She hums in agreement and sighs.

“Maybe I’ll come home stressed out more often.”

**_5 months before the wedding_ **

****

Clarke had sworn blind that she wasn’t going to leave him to do the cake shopping on his own, but really, he should have known better than to book it on a day she was working. Even if it is an early shift, he knows that there’s no guarantee she’s making it there.

“I’m so sorry” she whispers on the phone, obviously she’s snuck off somewhere to phone him. He’s already outside the cake shop, their appointments in five minutes and to his surprise, it’s not easy getting an appointment for cake tasting of all things. He was just going to turn up there and ask for cake until Gina told him that’s not how it works. “The doctor who was supposed to be taking over from me calling sick and there’s no one to take over for another couple of hours now.”

“This is Karma, isn’t it” he sighs, “for not coming flower shopping with you.”

There’s a pause where he knows she’s smirking to herself. “Maybe a bit. Are the meddling mothers there yet?”

“I smell burning so I don’t think they’re too far away.” There’s a call out somewhere on her end of the phone and she sighs dejectedly.

“That’s for me, I’ll see you later okay?”

“Yeah yeah” he mutters, “I see the chariots of hell looming, I’ll bring you some cake back.” He hangs up as his mother steps out of a car on the other side of the street as Abby walks towards him from the other direction. No place to run now.

“Clarke can’t make it” Roan announces in lieu of an actual greeting, hoping it will put them off. “The doctor who was supposed to take over her called in sick so she’s in for at least another couple of hours now. we could always just reschedule for another time when we can both make it.”

“This seems to be a thing with you two” his mother frowns “apparently not being able to get out of work, are you avoiding each other?”

“No, we’re not avoiding each other” he mutters with a roll of his eyes, “we’re just busy.”

“Well we can’t reschedule, these kinds of places are booked up for months, you were lucky to get in on such short notice, the weddings only a few months away now.” Abby points out, and he knows she’s right, he’s going to have to grin and bear it.

“Fine, let’s go” he mutters petulantly, pushing the door open and holding it open for them to saunter past him.

The bakery is filled with grand outlandish cakes, he and Clarke have already decided on the design – well, Clarke designed it and finalised it with the bakers, it’s just down to picking a flavour.

“Griffin-Winters wedding?” the woman behind the counter asks with a smile, he immediately wants to cringe.

“Griffin Winters?” His mother demands, eyebrows flying into her hairline. “Clarkes not taking your name?”

He knew this would be an issue, it's why he didn’t bring it up before. He was actually counting on her never speaking to them again after the wedding, so they’d never find out.

Plan foiled.

“Why should she?” Abby demands, here comes the arguments. Maybe the bakers will kick them out and they can get a cake from the store – he’ll probably like that better anyway. Clarke is always telling him that more expensive doesn’t always mean it’s better quality – until he’s buying her wine, that is. “Your last name didn’t achieve anything for her, why should she have to give up her own last name?”

“It’s traditional” his mother spits, “Why should our last name be tainted because your daughter wants to hold onto something as silly as a last name?”

“Well if it’s so silly you shouldn’t be bothered by Clarke not taking it.”

“We’re Griffin-Winters” Roan confirms to the lady behind the counter, who’s staring agape at the scene in front of her. “My fiancée’s stuck at work, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what she likes.”

“Okay” she smiles nervously, if you take a seat, we’ll bring some samples over.

He makes sure to sit between his mothers, then instantly regrets it. He should have just let them kill each other.

There’s an awkward silence as they wait for their samples, he wonders if this is what they did when they went flower shopping with Clarke, he suddenly feels so much worse than before. He has a feeling Clarkes laughing, though.

“Why are you dressed like a hobo?” His mother suddenly demands, he looks down at his jeans and t-shirt with a frown, these were expensive clothes.

“I’m not.”

“Your shirts not washed and there’s a rip in it.” She tugs at his shirt with a grimace.

“It’s clean, it's just the design – and there’s supposed to be a rip in it, Clarke tells me it’s fashionable.” He mutters, not liking the judgment being on him.

“There’s people out there who have no choice but to wear ripped clothes, and you’re here wearing it for _fashion?_ ”

“Oh, for gods sake” he mutters under his breath, Abby’s next to him seething and there’s nothing he can do to stop another argument.

“So now you care about the homeless community?” Abby demands scathingly.

“Don’t be so dramatic” his mother deflects with a flick of her hand.

“Stop” he warns, “not here, you can talk politics whenever the hell you like, but you’re doing it here and neither of you are going to make a scene, understood?”

It’s like looking after toddlers, he thinks grouchily. He wonders if a time out or a long nap will work with them. Reluctantly they both nod and he sits back in relief as the samples finally come out. The entire tables covered in bowls of cake – usually this would be his idea of heaven, now it’s a new, personal hell.

“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” the baker asks as they set down the last of the cake sample.

“Not fruit cake, neither of us like it” he informs her, much to everybody’s disgust.

“You can’t not have a traditional wedding cake” Abby says it as if he’s suggested having a beer keg in place of a wedding cake. It’s not a bad idea, actually. He could switch one up and have Clarkes Sauvignon Blanc and they’d be happy.

“Nobody actually likes fruit cake” Roan rolls his eyes and pushes the slice towards his mother.

 _“I_ like fruit cake” His mother tells him pointedly.

“That’s because you brought it with you from hell.” He mutters, he’s sure there’s a glimpse of a smile on Abby’s lips.

The amount of cakes he’s tried, he thinks he might have needed to bring a score sheet. But still, there’s a couple of contenders, he wonders what kind of hell his mother will raise if he goes for the white chocolate and Raspberry one, he knows it’s Clarke's favourite and it seems to be ‘in vogue’ right now. He gives himself a pep talk – not that he should have to, this is his wedding, he makes the decisions. He’s almost thirty for gods sake, he’s not scared of his mother.

“If you’re not going for a traditional cake, this one might be a winner” Abby suddenly announces, he hopes to god she means the white chocolate and raspberry one. But it’s not – of course it’s not, that would make his life so much simpler. She’s referring to a coconut one and his stomach drops.

“Clarke can’t have that, she’s allergic” he points out, though really, he shouldn’t have to, she should know that as her mother.

“That is one of our best sellers” The baker unhelpfully points out. Roan tries to subtly tell her to stop, he’s pretty sure he just looks like he wants to murder her, though. “And it’s a crowd pleaser, we always get the best feedback from it.”

“My fiancée’s allergic to coconut” he’s not sure how much clearer he has to be about this. He’s not buying a cake the bride can’t eat.

“Roan,” his mother warns, “You should be thinking of your guests, they’re the ones who’ll be eating the cake.”

“What if they’re allergic to it as well?”

“It’s quite a rare allergy” Abby shrugs, “Clarke’s reaction isn’t even that bad, she’s just dramatic about it.”

He wants to kick something, he misses the days neither of them was interested in their lives, those were the days they maybe could have organised a wedding in peace.

“She gets hives and mouth ulcers; we’re not having a cake at our wedding that she can’t eat and that’s the end of it.”

“You could always have a separate cake for the bride” The baker’s trying to be helpful, he knows she is. But he shouldn’t have to order separate cakes, he should be able to just order the one he wants.

“We’re not having it. I’m not ordering separate cakes and I’m not having a cake that Clarke’s allergic to. We’re having the white chocolate and raspberry.”

“Absolutely not” both his mother and Abby snaps.

“You’re not having a chocolate cake at your wedding; this isn’t a five year olds birthday party” His mother snaps.

“What would you know about kids’ birthday parties, you’ve never been to one” he snorts, as a child he was never allowed something as ridiculous as a birthday party, it was unheard of, simply not allowed. It’s no wonder he’s grown up to be such a serious person.

“Regardless, think about the message that sends to your guests, you may as well have circus performers there if you’re going to have _chocolate_ cake.”

There’s a moment of realisation that he’s not going to win this one, not in front of them, anyway. They’ll just change the order behind his back regardless. This is what they did to Clarke, how can two people hold so much power over their lives?

“Fine” he snaps, “order the damn coconut cake. But I swear to god if Clarke gets a reaction there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“Always so dramatic.” His mother sighs, then turns to the baker. “We’ll take the coconut one, the premium feeds up to 200 people, doesn’t it?”

“How many people?” he demands. This was going to be a long 5 months.

*

Clarke comes in later than he expected, but she probably just did some added overtime to make sure she was in the clear from having to turn up at the bakery. There’s two samples in the fridge, the evil one and the ‘personal’ one, as the baker had so lovingly called it.

He was tempted to tell her where she could put her personal cake.

“Sorry I’m so late” she sighs, “Please tell me you got the cake sorted.”

He gives her a pitiful look; he can’t help it. He was weak and their mothers were ganging up on him.

“There’s two cakes in the fridge, you can only have one, though.”

She raises an eyebrow questioningly at him, “Why do we have two and why can I only eat one?”

“The one you can eat is white chocolate and Raspberry” her eyes light up in delight, he knew she’d like that one best. “The one you can’t have is coconut.”

In her defence, she’s surprisingly calm about it. Just blinks at him a couple of times while she processes what he’s just said. “Why did you get a Coconut cake?” she asks slowly, he doesn’t really have a defence.

“The baker told she-devils that it was the best seller and a crowd pleaser so next to having the horrible fruit cake, this was the best choice. Don’t worry, I’m going to call the bakery in the morning and get them to change it to the White Chocolate and Raspberry.”

“Oh baby” she sighs with a smile, climbing onto his lap. “Did they bully you into it?”

“Yes” he grumbles, “they’re a force of nature when they’re together, I had to break up a politics fight before we even got around to having the cakes.”

“They’re mean, aren’t they? They told me that my flower choices looked like a tacky backyard ranch wedding and people were going to put it in ‘wedding disaster’ magazines.”

Roan grimaces, “They told me that the cake I wanted was better suited to a 5 year olds birthday party and we may as well have circus performers there if we were going to do that. For the record – I’ve never had a birthday in my life.”

“Never?” she screws up her nose, then shakes her head incredulously. “But seriously, how can two women cause such chaos in one wedding? I’m convinced they’re just doing it to make our lives miserable. My mom wants us to have a dove release when we have our first kiss, I’m petrified of birds.”

“My mom asked if the premium cake would feed 200 people. Just think, in five months’ time this will all be over with and we’ll be on our way The Maldives for a month with no more worries. I told my mother we’d booked Mexico for the honeymoon.”

“I told mine we’ve booked Mauritius” she grins.

Soon this would all be over, and as long as his girls by his side he’ll get through it.

**_2 months before the wedding_ **

“Don’t forget you suit fittings today” Clarke calls from the bathroom, Roan rolls his eyes and ties his hair back, as if he could forget.

“I don’t see the point” he mutters, “I own a closet full of suits, why can’t I just wear one of those?”

She shorts as she comes out of the bathroom in her scrubs, tying her hair into a ponytail. “Because we’re getting married, you can’t wear your work suits.”

He grumbles and pulls on his jacket, there’s nothing wrong with his work suits, he won’t buy anything different to what he’d wear at work. But he guesses needs must. “Fine, I’ll go get an identical suit to the fifty I already own.”

“Good” she tiptoes up to kiss his cheek, “get a navy one, you look good in navy.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, “Is that so?”

She hums in agreement and kisses his lips, as much as he’d like _this_ to continue, they both have work, and if he’s going to leave early, he definitely can’t be late.

He skips out on having a lunch break, not that he has one very often, and leaves the rest of the work for Echo, he’s stayed late enough recently, it won’t hurt this once to duck out early, even if it’s for something he doesn’t particularly care about. But if it makes his fiancée happy, then he’ll do it.

The tailors she’s sent him _claim_ they specialise in wedding suits; he still can’t tell the difference between the ones on the mannequins dotted around the room and the one he’s wearing. He’s waiting in a ridiculously luxurious waiting room, he’s sure most of it is done just to get a more pretentious clientele – but then, that seems to be the case with most of New York City. He must talk to Clarke about whether they _actually_ want to live here after they get married, he’s sure there’s probably better places to live. 

“Oh good” comes a voice from the doorway of the waiting room, it immediately sends a chill down his spine. “I thought I was going to be late.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snaps at his mother, who just rolls her eyes and shrugs off her jacket.

“Do you think I’d miss my own son's suit fitting for his wedding?”

“You missed my graduation so–yes.”

“This is different” she deadpans, and Roan supposes it is different, because this works for her, benefits her, even. That’s what he’s always been to her, a piece she can pull and tear at until it suits what she needs. He’s allowing it now, because really – he can’t be bothered with the drama. This wedding business was stressful enough without having to fight her at every turn, he may as well just let her do what she wants, get her photos and maybe then she’ll leave him in peace.

The tailor calls him – them, rather – through to take measurements. It’s not something he’s particularly comfortable with – people touching him, but he reminds himself needs must. He still can’t figure out why he couldn’t have gone to his own tailor for this – they already have his measurements on file.

He’s even more uncomfortable when he’s asked to take his shirt off – in front of his mother no less.

“What on earth are those?” she snaps, eyeing his tattoos with disgust.

“Tattoos” he grunts, as if it wasn’t already obvious what they were.

“They’re barbaric” she sniffs, “but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“Lovely,” he mutters, hoping the conversations going to end there. That, of course, was wishful thinking. Because the conversation goes much, much further. She comments on the amount of time he must spend in the gym – as if that’s a bad thing, how long his hair is and when he’s _finally_ going to cut it before the wedding. He’s not, and it’s certainly not down to her to dictate what he does with any of his life.

The tailor clears his throat awkwardly and tells Roan he can put it shirt back on.

“So, I’ve got it written down that it’s a three piece wedding suit in navy?” the tailor questions, looking over the paperwork. 

“Navy?” he’s surprised his mother’s eyebrows don’t get lost in her hairline how quickly they shoot up. It might be comical if it wasn’t so annoying. “Why aren’t you wearing black?”

“Because it’s not a funeral. Besides, Clarke wants me to wear Navy.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it left his mouth, really, he should know better, being a lawyer and all. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out her ears, but it’s not a cartoon, and she’s just turning very, very red.

“You’re going to let Clarke dictate how you dress now? As if she hasn’t already taken over enough of your life.”

Roan snorts, it’s not the most dignified of responses he could have come up with, but that’s the one he came out with. “She has not taken over my life, if you’d ever been a part of my life you would actually know that.”

She sits back in her seat, her face carefully composed, a politicians looks if ever he’s seen one. “Oh really? So you chose the apartment in Manhattan, it’s not really where I pictured you living.”

“I’m honoured you ever thought about me enough to picture me living somewhere.” He grunts.

“Don’t be dramatic,” his mother scolds, “I’m just saying, it doesn’t very you, I imagine Clarke had a say in it when you moved in together.”

She’s trying to get a rise out of him, she always does. As a politician, it’s her job to do that, and as a lawyer, it’s his job not to take the bait – but there’s something about her presence that makes that fall apart, there’s something about her that ultimately makes him uncomfortable.

“Of course she had a say, it’s her apartment too.”

“You said most of the artwork in the apartment is hers too. Does she pick out your underwear, too?”

“Oh for gods sake” he grumbles “it’s just a suit. She likes it when I wear navy, so I’m wearing navy. I didn’t even want to buy another suit, but she said I had to for the stupid wedding.”

She blinks at him, and he realises she got the exact reaction out of him she was hoping for. “if you think the wedding is so stupid, why are you going ahead with it? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, and marriage is a commitment – quite frankly I think you need to have a good, long think about whether this is really what you want to do, and if Clarke is really who you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He takes a moment to compose himself, him flipping out right now isn’t going to solve anything, it would probably just prover her right, actually.

“Getting married isn’t stupid” he tells her as calmly as he can, “the whole wedding thing is. You and Abby need to butt out of it, at every turn _you’re_ the ones who have tried to dictate every little detail – you both sent separate wedding planners around to our apartment, you changed Clarkes flower order, you bullied us into getting a cake Clarke’s allergic to, I know one of you had something to do with the wedding venue cancelling on us. I have had enough now, you’re keeping out of it, this wedding has nothing to do with you, you’re a guest – that’s it. That’s all you’re going to be.”

The tailor coughs awkwardly and squeaks “So I’ll need a deposit before I can put the order through.”

*

He goes home in a foul mood and curses his mother for ever getting into his head. He doesn’t even know how she knew about the appointment. It must be one of the perks of being the antichrist.

He slams the door unnecessarily hard behind him, expecting to be alone in the apartment, but Clarkes sitting at the kitchen island. She should still be at work for at least another few hours.

“That bad?” she asks quietly, there’s a cup of mint tea in front of her. Vaguely he thinks it’s odd – she never drinks tea, always coffee, he didn’t even think they had any tea in the house, but he doesn’t question it. 

“My mother turned up” he spits, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and slamming it shut. It rattles briefly, he doesn’t care. “She started questioning whether getting married was the right decision and if you were the person I wanted to marry. She’s ridiculous, she tried accusing you of taking over my life.”

He expects Clarke to share his rage, but she just stares sadly down into her tea. “Is it the right decision, marrying me?”

Roan freezes, dread settling in his stomach. Had he underestimated the situation? She’d seemed fine when she went out to work this morning, she hadn’t text him to say anything had happened. Had her mother got to her and said something – or worse, had his mother got to her?

“Of course it’s the right decision, what the hell are you talking about?”

She shakes her head, there’s tears in her eyes and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry before. She’s always strong and composed, he doesn’t know if he can bear seeing her cry.

“I just – I want to give you an out, if you’re really not sure about us, in any capacity I want you to know that you’ve got an out, no matter what happens.” She’s uncharacteristically quiet and unsure of herself, he wonders what the hells going on.

“Clarke talk to me, please – just tell me what’s going on.” He pleads, she must know that he wants this, he wouldn’t have proposed if he wasn’t absolutely sure she was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He doesn’t do anything he’s not sure of, it’s not in his nature.

“I passed out at work earlier, they sent me home, they said they wanted to check me over but I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong.”

Now he’s panicking more than before, he’s not good at showing emotions, or feeling them, for that matter. But if Clarke’s sick, he doesn’t know how he’ll cope. He won’t – it’s as simple as that. He can’t lose her, not now – not ever.

She nudges a bag towards him on the island, he hadn’t noticed before, too wrapped up in everything else going on. He opens the bag, and his heart stops momentarily. The packaging is unfamiliar, the bold writing is clear enough.

“You’re pregnant?” he breathes, hands shaking around the test.

“I don’t know, I was waiting for you before I took it.” She confesses, still looking into her tea.

“Then take it.” His thoughts are a jumbled mess, he doesn’t know what to think until he has a definitive answer.

It’s the longest two minutes of his life, Clarke sits on the bathroom counter, pointedly not looking at him or the test while the timer on her phone counts down. He’s never seen numbers move so slow in all his life. He practically jumps out of his skin when the timer chimes, Clarke switches it off hastily and gives him a watery smile.

“Here goes” she whispers, picking up the test. He only knows what he’s seen in movies, where people look at a stick and jump for joy or let out a disappointed sigh – he’s honestly never given much thought to what goes through people’s minds when they see the results.

It’s clear enough – the digital screen proudly declares _Pregnant_.

He’s never wanted children, after the hell his mother put him through as a child, he never felt like he’d be adequate enough to be a father himself, he’ll only screw them up. He’s spoken to Clarke about it, long before they moved in with each other or got engaged, it was something they needed to be on the same page about. She didn’t want them either, she works too much, and her mother was never overly affectionate, she doesn’t think she will be, either.

But that test – that tiny little sign changes everything. He suddenly has a vision of a little blonde haired blue eyed child wrapping their chubby arms around his legs, picking them up and kissing their cheek. Suddenly, he wants it more than he thinks he can say, he wants a mini Clarke, beautiful and kind and caring, he wants the unconditional love – he wants to do better.

“You’ve got an out” she whispers, “I won’t hold it against you, I know this isn’t what you wanted or –”

He cuts her off with a kiss, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her close. “I want this” he assures her “I want this with you, I want everything with you.”

“Really?” she laughs, tears in her eyes. “If you want it too, I want it.”

“How could I not want a mini you running around raising hell. But we’re getting the hell out of the city.”

She laughs again, it’s like music to his ears. “Are you saying you want a white picket fence?”

“I do” he surprises himself with the confession, “I want the house in the suburbs and the white picket fence and the brood of children running around – hell, throw a couple of dogs in there. I’ll take it, every last bit of it.”

Her forehead presses to his with a grin, “I want that too.” She whispers. He lays his hand flat against her stomach, his baby – their baby. He’s been so happy, maybe the day he proposed to Clarke, but now, there’s going to be an entire collection of happy memories that make him feel like this, so happy he could float.

“I love you. Both of you.”

She wraps her arms tighter around his neck, holding him so close there’s no space at all between them. He could stay in this moment for the rest of his life.

“We love you too.”

“no more stress though.” He tells her, “no more stressing over the wedding or our mothers, it doesn’t matter, any of it. No matter how that day goes – it’s not important, you are.”

He’s got a plan, it's irrational and sudden, it probably requires more planning than he’s about to put in, but he’s doing it.

“You said the other week that the dress you wanted was off the rack, right? Do you still think you can get it?”

Clarke blinks up at him in confusion. “I think so, I don’t really know, why what are you planning?”

“Our terms. We’re getting married on our terms. Let them have the picture perfect wedding they want; I don’t give a shit. I need to make some calls; you call the dress shop – that’s the only thing you’re going to worry about.”

*

The next day is filled with manic rushing around and endless phone calls and calling in favours with everyone he can think of, but he does it. It’s possibly been one of the most stressful days of his life, but he knows it will all be worth it in the end.

He orders a car to pick up Clarke just before sunset while he sets up the last few things.

The sun's setting, creating an orange glow around them. She’s radiant, she’s always been beautiful, but when she steps out of the car in a long white dress, her hair falling softly over her shoulders. She looks around in wonder at the makeshift aisle lined with flowers and fairy lights.

He remembers how devastated she was when they couldn’t get the botanical gardens for their wedding – now they do. It had cost a bit to get use of it after hours, but there’s no money in the world that can compare to her smile when she sees it.

“How?” she laughs when she greets him at the makeshift altar. There’s the flowers that he left for her thread through her hair and a small bouquet clutched in her hands. He’s got the rings in his pocket, he’s got everything he could ever want right here with him.

“it’s took a lot of organising, but it’s worth it.”

She beams at him, there are two witnesses standing to the side, he has no idea who they are, as long as they can sign the paperwork to say they saw them get married he doesn’t care. Clarke hands her bouquet off to one of them, he’s not sure he can remember their names, but they’re unimportant right now. the most important person is staring at him like he holds the moon.

“Ready?” The officiant asks, Clarke takes his hands and squeezes, he’s never been more ready for anything in his entire life. “I believe Roan has written his own vows.”

He takes a deep breath, nerves starting to take over now, he doesn’t know why though, he’s never been so sure of anything in his entire life.

“Clarke, when I met you, I wasn’t looking for love, I was committed to my job and I thought that was enough. But you changed that – you made me see everything I was missing. You’re kind and caring and so unintentionally funny. You’re clever and passionate and beautiful – you’re so much more than I deserve. I know I’ve never done anything to deserve your love, but I’m grateful every single day that I wake up next to you. Soon we’ll have our own little family, it’s not how I imagined any of this going, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I wouldn’t change any of it. I love you, Clarke Griffin – more than you could ever possibly know.”

Clarkes eyes fill with tears, he can only hope they’re happy ones. He knows the ones in his eyes are.

“Clarke” The officiant prompts, “Is there anything you want to say?”

She pauses and licks her lips, he’s put her on the spot here, he should have told the officiant to just do traditional vows.

“Roan, I always thought I was fine on my own – I was fine on my own, but why would I want to be when I could be with you every day for the rest of my life. You’re so passionate and strong, you hold so much more worth than you believe. My life never truly started until you rear ended my car, and that’s not a sentence I’d ever imagined myself saying. You challenge me every day, you’ve made me rethink every single life plan I’ve ever made – but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want a life with you I didn’t want with anybody else. I love you, and I’ll carry on loving you in every lifetime I get to spend with you.”

He won’t cry – he tells himself over and over that he will not cry, but hearing that, knowing that Clarke loves him like he loves her, it’s all too much. They don’t say things like this out loud, it’s never been in their nature, but here, almost alone is the perfect place to say it out loud, as they’re about to dedicate their lives to one another.

“The rings” The officiant prompts, Roan digs them out his pocket and holds his hand out for Clarke to take his. Her rings tiny in the palm of his hand, small and delicate like her.

“With this ring,” Roan repeats after the officiant, "I, Roan Winters, take thee, Clarke Abigail Griffin, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

He slips the rings onto her finger, it sits perfectly with her engagement, and his life is so very nearly completely.

“With this ring, I, Clarke Abigail Griffin, take thee, Roan Winters, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife” the officiant proudly announces, and Roan thinks he might burst from happiness. “You may kiss your bride.”

Clarke wastes no time, she throws her arms around his neck and plants her lips firmly on his. He’s overjoyed as he kisses her back – for the first time as his wife, the woman he’s chosen to spend his life with and chose him back.

Someday, they’ll look back on this crazy adventure and smile at the pictures taken on a stranger’s cell phone, and know that he’s still just as in love with her as he was in this very moment.

**_Day of the (second) wedding_ **

****

He paces the small dressing room nervously, his suit pressed and perfect, his wedding ring in his pocket, the first time since they eloped two months ago. He doesn’t regret a single moment of it, this today is all for show, to impress people he doesn’t care about. That moment when they eloped was them, no one else to care or worry about, just him and the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

The door opens slowly, and he stops pacing with a frown. He has no idea who could possibly be coming into his dressing room. But sure enough his mother closes the door softly behind her. She’s wearing a silver dress that suits the iciness of her heart.

“What do you want?” he sighs, as if the morning hasn’t been bad enough already. Everything they had planned seems to have magically changed, right down to the guestlist. The flower order was wrong, the cake order was wrong, even the officiant they had booked was wrong. He thought poor Gina was going to haemorrhage.

It doesn’t matter, none of it does. This day was just for show – really, it was their Mother’s Day for photos and press to see what amazing family people they both are. He wonders vaguely if they keep the baby a secret from them, he imagines after the wedding they’ll go back to being distant, so they might be in luck.

“it’s your wedding day” His mother retorts with a roll of her eyes. “I want to see you before you become a married man.”

Funny how she’s never had a desire to see him before. “You’re not talking me out of it.” He mutters, there’s nothing to be talked out of, he’s already done it.

“I know. I came to give you these, actually.” She opens her purse and pulls out a pair of cufflinks he knows all too well. They’re his fathers, maybe even the ones we wore when he married his mother. They’re not exactly going to be good luck, but still he appreciates the gesture.

“Thank you” he blinks, holding out his hand for her to fix them. It's possibly the first time she’s ever done anything even close to motherly for him.

“There” she smiles tightly, letting him drop his arm. “Well, somebody may as well wear them.” She sniffs, then gives him an appraising glance. “You’re not wearing a tie?”

“No, they feel like they’re strangling me. I don’t want to be strangled by a piece of unnecessary fabric on my wedding day.”

“That’s because your necks so big” she deadpans. With one last glance she looks him over, then almost smiles before she leaves. He’s touched. With a turn of his wrist, he looks at the engraved cufflinks, they’re still pristine and shine in the light, _R.W_ engraved in delicate scripture.

It’s almost time to go and take his place when there’s another knock on the door. It can’t possibly be his mother coming back to insult his fashion choices some more.

Clarke rounds the door gingerly, shutting it softly behind her. She’s beautiful – she always is of course, but now even more than ever. She’s wearing a different dress to the other night; one he imagines her mother approves of this time. Her hairs half tied back with a silver clip adorned with sapphire jewels holding her veil in place. Her make ups professionally done, though it makes no difference to her beauty.

“Hey” she whispers, as if anyone could hear her.

“isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

She beams at and takes his hand. “It’s a good job we’re already married, then.”

“Yeah” he agrees softly. “You alright? Not stressed?”

“Not stressed” she assures him, “my mother suspects I’m drunk though, with how calm I’ve been today.”

He snorts and shakes his head, he can see why it would be suspicious, it’s supposed to be the most important day of their lives, that was two months ago, though. Now they’ve got another important day coming up, but that’s not for another six months.

“Tell me honestly, can you tell?” she turns to the side, but the dress is floaty enough that you can’t see the small bump he holds so precious.

“Not at all” he assures her lovingly. “Soon though.”

“Not today.” She steps to him and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a chaste kiss. “No matter what happens today, I love you, okay?”

“I love you too – what do you mean no matter what happens today? Are you planning on leaving me at the altar?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I just heard the words _dove release_ and I might have to duck out if that happens.” She hates birds, her mother knows that, he’s told his mother that, but then they also knew she’s allergic to coconut and bullied him into ordering a coconut flavoured cake.

“We’ll be fine.” He promises her. “Now get out of here before you’re caught and your mother kills me”

“Wait until she finds out about the surprise wedding we had” she murmurs, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. she turns to leave, only ten minutes until he sees her again, though.

“Hey” she turns to look over his shoulder, hand on the door handle. “I love you – both of you.”

“We love you too” she smiles with a faint blush under her makeup, then ducks out before she’s caught.

He’s not nervous as he stands at the altar, this time the official one, with a photographer with an actual camera instead of an iPhone. The entire venue is dripping with flowers and lights, he knows for a fact that’s not what Clarke would have chosen.

Neither is the extra fifty or so guests, most of which he doesn’t recognise. It doesn’t matter, nothing does as the music from the orchestra – which they didn’t book – starts up and Clarke appears at the end of the aisle. Even though he only saw her 10 minutes ago, she still takes his breath away.

“Hi” she smiles, taking his hands.

“Hi” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He wants to laugh, she does too – he can see it in her eyes. The whole thing seems ridiculous, how overdone the venue is and how completely not them it is. He’s grateful for their tiny ceremony now more than ever. That he got to declare his love in private and hear it back. There’s no way either of them would say the vows they said in front of this many strangers.

Their vows are simple this time, scripted and necessary. When they’re declared as husband and wife, Clarke giggles and stands on her tiptoes, giving him a quick, chaste kiss. A camera clicks and the guests erupt into applause. Then – what Clarke had been dreading – someone calls for the doves to be released and she clings to him in fear as doves swoop up.

That was definitely a picture to keep.

They’re congratulated by more people than he cares for, the entire time he doesn’t let go of Clarke's hand. He’s irrationally scared of people getting too close to her, he’s always been protective, but now he feels like he’s in overdrive. They phoned the venue beforehand and explained the situation and switched the wine to alcohol free, Clarke has pouted a bit at that, saying the whole point of getting married in a vineyard was the wine, but neither of them were willing to take any risks.

Besides, there’s an open bar if anybody doesn’t like the wine they’ve supplied.

He taps his finger nervously on the table, preparing for what was possibly going to be the worst speech in wedding history. Clarke gives him a sheepish smile and squeezes hand as he stands and clears his throat. He doesn’t plan on dragging this out any longer than he needs to.

“Thank you everyone for being here today to celebrate our marriage. If you’d have told me 3 years ago that I’d be standing here today making a speech at my wedding, I’d have laughed at you, or asked for a glass of whatever you were drinking. But here we are, and I couldn’t be happier, or more grateful for my wife for the happiness she’s brought me over the last 3 years. Who would have thought we’d have ended up here after rear ending your car? I’d have started driving a bit more recklessly if I knew that I’d find you.”

He pauses at the laughter, but he’s looking at Clarke, smiling softly up at him. “When I proposed, I didn’t know what the next few months would bring, and honestly – it was a mess. It was filled with chaos and disasters, but also love and laughter. I don’t say it enough, but Clarke, I’m more grateful for you than you’ll ever know – which is why I’m thankful for the last two months we’ve spent as a married couple in peace.”

Clarke winces at the shocked gasps from their guests, he’s revelling in the look of disbelief and outrage on their mothers faces. He knew there’d be hell to pay if they ever found out, so he may as well tell them with as many witnesses as possible.

“So tonight, we celebrate love, I’d like to raise a toast to my beautiful wife. To Clarke.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as he sits down, his mother’s gone an interesting shade of red, Abby might smash her wine glass if she holds onto it any tighter, at least Marcus looks like he’s smiling. He’s grateful when they’re announced to take their first dance.

“You really had to get it out there, didn’t you?” Clarke grins as they sway on the dance floor. There’s a happy flush to her cheeks he’ll happily get used to.

“I think our mothers were getting a bit too comfortable, thinking they’d gotten away with all the changes.”

She rests her head against his chest adoringly and he kisses her hair. No matter what life throws at him, he’ll always have his girl.

“I love you” he murmurs into her hair.

“We love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for t100fic4blm. I'm taking requests for prompts along with lots of other amazing writer and content creators! You can also gift a fanwork to your friend for the holidays! For more information, [Check out the carrd here!](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co)


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